The Love of a Good Woman
by skarm
Summary: A man left with nothing does not have the power to overcome a Dark Lord. If that is the case Harry Potter is certainly in deep trouble as things stand. Luckily for Harry Love has not quite given up on making him a whole man.
1. The Many Regrets of Harry Potter

**The Love of a Good Woman**

Summary: A man left with nothing does not have the power to overcome a Dark Lord. If that is the case Harry Potter appears to be in deep trouble. Luckily for Harry Love has not quite given up on making him a whole man.

A/N: Greetings and welcome to my post-apocalyptic style story. The story is marked as Harry/Daphne, but you will notice first and for most in the present time, as it stands, there are several hints to another relationship Harry once had. In flashbacks, which happen more readily starting in Chapter 2 (you as a reader will want to know how we ended up to this point, trust me) this relationship will get actual screen time 'in the past'. As the story progresses there will be less flashbacks and the Harry/Daphne will fair outweigh any previous relationships Harry once had. Thus, the pairing stated on is accurate, and we will meet Daphne fairly quickly in both flashbacks and present time.

Disclaimer: Many of the characters in this story (ie: any you recognize) and the world in which the story is set are the wonderful gifts of J.K. Rowling. I do not own these characters and no profit is being made.

**_Chapter 1: The Many Regrets of Harry Potter_**

_"Yes, it was rather horrible," said Luna conversationally. "I still feel very sad about it sometimes. But I've still got Dad. And anyway, it's not as though I'll never see Mum again, is it?" Luna Lovegood, to Harry Potter. (OP/38)_

**13th November, 2001**

Harry awoke to the loud crashes and thuds coming from the first story of the house. His hand immediately flailed to his side and clutched his wand from underneath the edge of his pillow while he bolted upright in the bed. He snatched his glasses from the nightstand located near the bed, if one could call it that since the mattress was old, lumpy, and filled with holes, and kicked to the side causing him to connect with a woman's leg.

"What in Merlin's name?" the drowsy female said from besides him. "Another bloody nightmare, Harry? Really-" The voice stopped and the woman sat rigidly upright when the sounds of pitched battle finally reached her ears.

Harry jumped out of bed and landed on his feet as he drew himself instinctively into a fighting stance with his wand at the ready pointed at the bedroom's door. He was ashamed that the woman beside him still hadn't learned the reflexes and reactions needed to stay alive in the volatile environment that the British Isles had become. He himself was dressed in his clothes. He rarely took them off now. Some part of his personality, the part that was easily embarrassed years earlier, was still with him. He couldn't walk around in the nude and on some occasions, just like this, he didn't have time to dress. His black jacket was still damp and stained from his mud from several hours earlier, and the shirt he had on underneath, a simple gray dress shirt from his days at Hogwarts. It was similarly splattered with mud and had many holes. It was uncomfortable, wearing damp clothes bed, but ever since Voldemort had by all accounts won the war it was nearly impossible to stay stationary in one location or get a good night's rest when away from the rest of their group.

Well, that wasn't true. While Harry was still alive there was hope according to the sodding Prophecy uttered by one of Harry's least favorite people, the former Divination professor Sybill Trelawney. Strictly speaking Harry would never admit that he had lost hope, but he had come very close to ending it all on several occasion. The Dark Lord Voldemort, the most feared wizard of the last decades, controlled what amounted to the Wizarding World in Britain except for a few select communities putting up a defiant act, but Harry figured it was just a matter of time. He had precious few loyal followers himself (at least they considered themselves followers once they had elected Harry their leader) in what was the remnants of the Order of the Phoenix and his own Dumbledore's Army combined.

The voices and shouts of spells being cast on the first floor of the supposed safe house gave away that it was in fact Death Eaters that had entered the house rather than a portion of the remnants of the muggle military. The latter had fractured into vigilante divisions when the muggle government had collapsed. They spent their time raiding stockpiles of weapons and food since Voldemort tended to leave them alone. At least he would until the rest of the wizarding pockets of resistance were taken down.

"Its that Lestrange again," the woman muttered Harry noted that she was finally out of bed and had her wand at the ready.

It was certainly Rodolphus Lestrange, Harry knew, having recognized the voice in an instant. There had been many run-ins between Lestrange and Harry in the past several years. Lestrange wanted to enact his own twisted version of vengeance after a battle that left his brother Rabastan bleeding out on the ground with a fatal opening in his jugular. Truth be told Harry had been waiting for his own chance after what had happened Ron. He had been saving a certain cutting curse that he'd inadvertently been taught by his former Potions professor for just such a meeting with the surviving Lestrange brother.

Harry ignored the woman's comment and swiftly walked towards the bedroom door. He opened it cautiously and glanced down the hall. It was still a pigsty. In fact, the entire house was a broken down slum. Still, it was the best that Harry and the last few members of his excursion team had found on such short notice. Everything was short notice nowadays. The Order of the Phoenix had fallen and with it went the safe houses, rest stops, and trusted members of the community that would harbor them. Now they were lucky if the slumlord they were dealing with didn't automatically walk over to the nearest militant group, Death Eater, or informant so he could get a reward. Luckily Harry still had some of his money left over so he could pay a generous amount. The money wouldn't last forever, though.

The floorboards creaked as the woman drew near behind Harry. He risked another quick glance into the hallway. It was still deserted, but the sounds had stopped downstairs. That meant the Death Eaters, and more importantly Lestrange, could be anywhere in the building.

"Harry?" the woman whispered, but Harry brushed her off in annoyance. She just didn't understand the gravity of these situations at times.

"If you want to live you'll be quiet," Harry hissed a little more cruelly than he would have liked. Then again the situation did warrant it.

Bianca Sweeney. In her early twenties, Muggleborn, and a true Hufflepuff, she had chestnut brown hair, prematurely going gray, that fell to her shoulders. She stood slightly shorter than Harry, coming up to his chin, and had, despite all of his intentions, taken to being his 'girlfriend'. She pursed her lips in annoyance at her lover's comment and further rewarded him with a reprimanding glare. If she wasn't covered in a few days filth from their flight across muggle London she'd look quite stunning.

Harry appreciated Bianca's openness to provide him with a purely physical, sexual, release, but his heart wasn't up for anything more. At the mere age of twenty Harry felt like a beaten man. Bianca assuredly knew this, but still tried to act the part of being an attentive lover.

_Where are Ron and Hermione when you need them?_ Harry often questioned in situations like these where he was confronted with unknown, and likely unbalanced odds in Lestrange's favor. It was extremely difficult to not abandon the fight as his closest friends were taken from him slowly and surely. While he still had a small group of followers with him, and there were others elsewhere, they weren't up to the caliber that Ron, Hermione, Remus Lupin, and Minerva McGonagall had been. That was proved time and time again with Bianca at his side. It was amazing that she, an average witch at best, was still alive while Hermione, the brightest and most book-smart witch he had ever known, had perished some time ago.

There was a loud scream and some more struggling. This was followed by a loud thud and then sound of someone flailing across the wooden floor. "_Crucio_!" the gruff voice of Lestrange echoed down the hallway. The screams escalated in frenzy. They were very familiar screams. Too familiar.

Without another moment's hesitation Harry jumped into action by barging into the hallway. He had abandoned caution the moment he recognized who was on the receiving end of Lestrange's curse. There was Neville Longbottom, one of his last true friends alive, being dragged down the stairs in magically conjured ropes by two cloaked Death Eaters while a third, undoubtedly Lestrange judging by the man's large stature, supervised. He had just reached the top of the stairs when they had caught him, judging by the slick trail of blood at the top. The last Harry had known was that Neville had stayed awake on the ground floor, too troubled about the death of his beloved Hannah Abbott months ago to find solace in sleep, while he and Bianca retired upstairs.

Harry gnashed his teeth together in anger before thrusting his wand in the direction of Neville's assailants. "_Sectumsempra_!" he cried, catching two of the three Death Eaters off guard. Lestrange had proactively dove down the stairs out of harms way the moment he saw Harry appear, but the other two, still struggling with the flailing Neville, were caught flat footed. Harry's spell caught the Death Eater on the left in the mid section. There was a horrid screech of pain as the individual fell to his knees.

Intestines, liver, and stomach all pouring of his wound, the Death Eater, in a daze, lazily tried to pack them all back up into his abdomen. Luckily for him he was in such shock that he didn't realize the pain he was sure to be in.

The second Death Eater that was hauling Neville around had ducked down enough so that he was behind the Gryffindor. However, it was a well placed kick by Neville, whose legs weren't well restrained, that hit the Death Eater square in his face and sent the man tumbling down the stairs. Neville struggled, gaining ground on the stairs so that his upper body was on the upper floor.

Harry was ready to sprint over and help his friend all of the way up so that they could all escape together, but Neville had other ideas.

"No, Harry," Neville began, his voice hoarse and weak. "Go. Just go. Save yourself. It is my time... I... want to see her again," he began to trail off more and more.

"No!" Harry yelled in reply, but he hadn't moved an inch. Back in his school days he would have already sped across the floor to help, but by now, after all that had happened, he knew the reality of the situation. The reality in which he knew Neville was correct. The look of peace on Neville's face left Harry with no doubt that the former was looking forward to being reunited with Hannah in a better afterlife. Harry knew the feeling all too well. "If only to give in," Harry thought for a moment before he was rudely interrupted by Lestrange. It was something the man did well.

"_Reducto_!"

The spell was fired by Lestrange who had just popped up from behind Neville's body. Somehow finding the strength to move his legs, Harry had lunged sideways, connecting with Bianca's abdomen, and causing them both to crash abruptly onto the filthy ground of the bedroom.

An explosion was punctuated with the shatter of glass from down the hallway that Harry had occupied mere seconds earlier. It drowned out Bianca's comment, but Harry didn't have either the time or the care to listen.

"Harry! Go! I'll stop them!" Neville's voice came from the hallway again, and by the sound of Lestrange grunting, he had most likely hampered the Death Eaters yet again.

Harry quickly peered out into the hallway. To the left, Neville's form had disappeared down the stairs with the Death Eaters, and to his right was his exit. Lestrange's spell had blown out part of the wall leaving an exit into the streets of London. While the streets were hardly safe especially with Lestrange's team of Death Eaters around, staying here was surely the worse option. "Come on!" he called over his shoulder to Bianca, who was just getting to her feet now.

"What is it? Is Neville...?" Bianca stopped when she saw Harry disappear around the corner in the opposite direction. Hurriedly, and without even checking to see if the coast was clear, she followed Harry down the hall to the gaping hole in the wall. "Harry?" she questioned nervously.

Turning to face Bianca, Harry nodded solemnly. "Neville's… made his decision," he trailed off just as some angry grunts, followed by curses, and followed by screams of at least two people echoed down the hall from the first floor. Harry had a hard time swallowing. He had seen and heard a lot of pain, suffering, and death in the last little while, but it came back to bite him the worst when it was people he knew from Hogwarts. "Neville, take care of Hannah, Luna, and the rest for me, okay?" He shook his head to clear it and gestured to the window. "This is our way out."

The moonlight splashed over Bianca's face as Harry pushed her forward. He had checked and luckily enough there was an awning just below. They were on the second floor, so falling one story only would hopefully allow the awning to, well, not break. She was worried. Her face had age lines that shouldn't be there for several years. Harry didn't have time to wait for Bianca to come to grips with the situation. He pushed her out of the window just as Lestrange, now unmasked, came rushing up the stairs again. Harry's mind barely registered with grim satisfaction that he hadn't managed to repair the spell damage to his nose from their exchange in the Fall of Hogwarts.

A cruel twist of fate, Lestrange's foot landed squarely in the pool of Neville's blood at the top of the stairs causing him to slip. He crashed down in a heap with some intestines of the fallen Death Eater looped around his right foot for good measure. Harry quickly banished Lestrange back down the stairs which elicited a yelp from the unsuspecting Death Eater.

Harry turned his attention back to his alley of escape: the blown out wall. The awning was still intact, but there was no sign of Bianca below. Perhaps there had been trouble and she'd had to flee? Harry steadied himself for a moment and then threw himself out of the window. The sounds of Lestrange and other footsteps were coming ever closer.

The awning didn't hold his weight. It slowed his fall, sagged, and then tore at the seams to have Harry flailing wildly for the last eight feet. The cold, wet, stone walkway was surprising more comfortable than it should have been. In fact, it didn't hurt at all. He blinked for a few moments, poking the ground to make sure it was real.

"Cushioning charm, Harry," Bianca stated proudly, stepping out from the shadows. It was chilly and damp enough out that Harry could see her breath.

"Right, whatever," Harry muttered, although he was grateful, hopping to his feet. He grabbed the girl's wrist and pulled her swiftly across the street, nearly causing her to trip off of the curb. Luckily the streets were deathly silent.

When Harry was sure he'd headed far enough away to take a slight breather and look back at the supposed safe house, he felt even sicker to his stomach. There was a flash of green light seen through the blown out wall. The Dark Mark soared high above.

* * *

**16th November, 2001**

Harry shivered as he descended further into the forest. It was colder now and the wind was biting, but at least on this venture into the woods his clothes were dry, and he appreciated the difference. With his hands stuffed in his pockets to try to stave off the numbness that was slowly overtaking them he trudged on, sure to keep his wand firmly grasped in his hand that was feeling all too tingly for his comfort.

The sun was extinguishing itself on the horizon, but in this extraordinary forest the disappearance of natural light only made the surroundings more vibrant and alive. The dim orange and red hue vanished from between the trees and the woods, unhampered by the fading light, glowed brilliantly. The forest, Luna Lovegood had once, years ago, informed him was full of moonlilies. The pollen the lilies created while in bloom illuminated under the moon casting a silvery glow over all it covered. The effect the sight had on Harry the first time he saw it, on a snow-less Christmas over the holidays of his sixth year, he had been mesmerized by the raw beauty flowing around him. Equally, Harry had been just as captivated by the natural beauty of his companion.

Harry always found this particular forest location comforting, and yet it was not without sour memories. There was a time where he could count on companionship when he ventured here, but now even his eccentric and lovely friend could not be here to share this with him. There are times where people would often say "leave me alone", and Harry damned himself for every time he had ever uttered those miserable words in the quietness of this forest sanctuary. Sometimes, if Harry strained hard enough, he would swear that he heard her words of encouragement carried on the billowing breeze.

In the center of the woods was a clearing with several large rocks. Luna had told him a fairy tale on his first visit about how fairies and pixies used the rocks to communicate with the Heavens. Harry used them for a similar purpose today.

The bespectacled youth paused at a nondescript tree on the edge of his rather unused path. He slipped his wand from his pocket and motioned it to his left. On the tree a rune flared into existence, but winked out only seconds later. With his ward deactivated, Harry trudged through the last few feet of dense underbrush into his clearing.

The first rock was of medium size compared to the others in the clearing and stood facing the entrance way with a defiant slant to it. Harry ignored it and pressed further into the clearing, passing other smaller, similarly glowing rocks that had slumped in the moist ground sometime since they were arranged. Finally the hardened youth, still with his back arched trying to conceal himself from the whipping wind, came upon the massive slab of stone, that stood at least twice his height, with several carvings. On closer inspection they were names, all having been carved roughly, though with great care, with a the telltale sign of magic.

A shivering Harry pointed his wand at a non-marked section of the rock before frowning. He reached down brushed some fluorescent dust off of the surface leaving his fingertips glowing in the darkness. Before beginning his all too practiced ritual the warrior stalled and his eyes darted to some of the other names before settling on the original name he had carved in the rock. His heart gave a painful twinge.

_Ginerva Molly Weasley_. And then underneath in smaller characters: _26th December, 1996._

"Ginny," murmured Harry as he struggled to find the correct words. Harry always had the most profound feeling of guilt associated with the death of Ginny Weasley. Ginny was the first name entered into Harry's makeshift memorial, and Harry had vowed that it would be the last. That was a vow Harry was painfully inadequate in being able to keep.. "I'm... sorry?" his voice failed him for a few moments. "Sorry, for what? That I didn't share your feelings? That you took it so hard? That I was shagging your best friend? That you happened to see?"Harry shook his head quickly and squeezed his eyes closed in an attempt to block the flow of tears. "I did nothing wrong," he offered. "I did nothing wrong," he repeated. "And neither did Luna. She helped me understand. She really did. I hope that you can see that now." The words flowed as freely as the tears which now stained his cheeks. "I loved you, Ginny, and I'm sorry. I love you, but just not in the same way you loved me. You don't deserve me tarnishing your memory any longer by snapping at you."

It was always like this when Harry visited his memorial. It wasn't always Ginny, though. Sometimes it was Ron. Sometimes it was Hermione, or Dumbledore, or whomever he happened to be missing at the moment. He'd stand here and vent his feelings even if it was unfair. His only wish is that those departed didn't take his comments too seriously. Each and every one was a friend that he cherished and had died in the conflict that he was at the very heart of. To avoid looking at Ginny's name any longer, and further embarrass himself, Harry's eyes flicked to the side. That didn't make things any easier.

_Remus John Lupin_. _4th January, 1999. _The image of Lupin's dissected body on the battlefield of Stonehenge rose to torture him. He looked further away from Ginny's and Lupin's carvings.

_Ernest Alexander MacMillan. 30th September, 1997._ Kill team lead by the Carrows. They were after Luna and himself instead, Harry remembered. Noble to the last breath, Ernie was there battling dark forces.

_Colin and Dennis Creevey. 2nd June, 1997. _Burned alive when the Lestranges sent some Fiendfyre rolling over their family home in Birmingham. Beyond the Creevey's there were even more names that Harry skimmed.

_Padma Patil. 15th August, 1998. Arabella Figg. 10th February, 1997. Elphias Doge. 22nd March, 1997. Hestia Jones, Ditto. Cho Chang. 1997?._

Reeling from the blur of memories Harry sank to his knee in the damp snow that abounded in the clearing. Too many names. Too many dates. "And now... one more." Before losing himself fully, Harry swiftly raised his wand again and carved swiftly using a cutting hex.

_Neville Winston Francis Longbottom. 13th November, 2001._

Neville's name joined the countless others that nearly covered the rock. Finding new places in the future might prove difficult. "But there aren't too many names left to add," Harry reminded himself.

_Pomona Sprout. Filius Flitwick. Minerva McGonagall. Fall of Hogwarts. 20th June, 1998._

Despite the wracking guilt and inner turmoil seeing this location brought to Harry there were always three other names in addition to Ginny's that he always paid his respects too more than the others.

_Ronald Bilius Weasley_. Harry's best friend. The date was covered in fluorescent colored pollen intermingled with chunks of damp snow. He knew the date far too well. Ron had gone out in a blaze of glory as a true hero amongst his peers. His actions allowed what remained of Dumbledore's Army to escape to fight another day.

_Hermione Jane Granger_. The smartest witch of her age. She died being as much of a hero as Ron had been. After Ron's demise, however, Hermione had never been the same. A permanent sadness had clouded her mind.

_Luna Astrid Lovegood_. Luna had been the one person to understand Harry's grief over Sirius, his parents, and all the others that had died. She had understood his feelings of guilt and worked with him to overcome them. Always Harry's confident, and later much more, Harry had honored her memory in different way. Harry had carved the likeness of a sparkling moonlily, Luna's favorite flower, around her name. _13th September, 1999. Always Loved; Always Remembered. Wit Beyond Measure Is Man's Greatest Treasure._

Harry stared at the stone with a powerful combination of guilt and regret. He gazed upon Luna's name and epitaph that he himself had carved the day of her death. That had truly been the worst day in Harry's very troubled and tumultuous life. He had nearly lost himself to the overwhelming sorrow that had gripped his heart. Voldemort had very nearly won the war outright that day. "My love," he whispered running his frigid fingertips across the capital 'L' of Luna. He reluctantly pulled back after a few extra precious moments with his beloved.

"Too many friends," Harry muttered, his emotion welling up inside of him as he spoke, "Too much family... too many that loved and lost... now nothing but names to be remembered on a fucking stone wall." Harry's bitterness was no longer at peace inside of him, spilling out with each word that came out of his mouth.

Suddenly Harry's eyes and mind were drawn to a smooth part of the stone, untainted by the name of a person he held dear. Untainted with the regret he had to live with every day. The stone was huge, and it was full of names, yet fittingly it held only one more space. Was it meant for the next person, if anyone, he gave any part of his heart to? Was it meant for him? Harry gave serious consideration to the question, sure that if he left a note Voldemort would be all too glad to do the carving personally; Voldemort would be the type to like a piece of stone with "Harry James Potter" on it over his mantle place, hell, maybe he'd even make a Horcrux out of the damn thing.

Then in a rare moment of clarity, in a moment not filled with anguish, Harry smiled. A sense of purpose welled up inside of him as he now knew, with a confidence he did not know the origin of, whose name belonged there. Tom Riddle, the man who it could be said was the first to die in Lord Voldemort's rise to power, should fittingly be the last name on the stone. How great it would be, a man so ashamed of his blood and of his true legacy that he was forced to abandon not only the name, but his very humanity and soul to try to run as far away from the name Riddle as possible, his lasting legacy to the world would be that of a victim, another name in a sea of many names, none more extraordinary than the next, all footnotes in the grand scheme of things for their single defining common trait: Victims of a madman.

* * *

By the time Harry had returned to the ruins of Ottery St. Catchpole, the first town to be utterly wiped off the map since the war began in earnest, he found a bored looking Bianca waiting for him.

"You look like you've been through hell," she commented.

"Something like that," Harry acknowledged with a grunt. He'd tried to have this conversation with Bianca before, but it wasn't worth it. Bianca was not Ron or Hermione and especially not Luna. She simply did not understand what it was like to be Harry James Potter. "While I was returning I got word from Seamus. I might be able to blow off some steam if the news is correct." He reached into his pocket and withdrew a muggle cellular phone. Voldemort's forces were intercepting all known magical forms of communication so Harry and the rest of the Order were relying on equipment outside the expertise of Voldemort's followers.

"Where are we going then?"

"Home."

"Little Whinging? I thought You-Know-Who burned the whole suburb to the ground."

Harry shot the woman a glare. The worst part was that she was being serious. Bianca was a good person, but Harry plainly felt the need to separate himself from her as quick as possible. "If you knew me you'd know that there's only one place I've truly ever called Home."

* * *

Final Thought:  
- If you pay attention to dates both blatantly written out in full and mentioned in other ways you should piece together a fairly good picture of a key event, but not in its entirety.


	2. The Only Woman He Ever Loved

**The Love of a Good Woman**

Summary: A man left with nothing does not have the power to overcome a Dark Lord. If that is the case Harry Potter appears to be in deep trouble. Luckily for Harry Love has not quite given up on making him a whole man.

Disclaimer: Many of the characters in this story (ie: any you recognize) and the world in which the story is set are the wonderful gifts of J.K. Rowling. I do not own these characters and no profit is being made.

Thanks: To Sir Chris for all his wonderful Beta work.

_**Chapter 2: The Only Woman He Had Ever Loved**_

**22nd November, 2001**

It had taken Harry close to a week to get from Devon, in the southwest of England, all the way to the Scottish border and then up to the highlands where he was headed. Magic could have greatly sped up this trip so that it could have been completed within a few hours, but as Voldemort and the Death Eaters were actively tracking any displays of Apparation, Portkeys, and Floo, there wasn't a safe way to do it beyond, ironically, his favorite method of magical travel. Harry had always enjoyed flying by broomstick.

There were two problems with this, however. The first was that the other members of his teams had varying degrees of skill flying (some had problems getting off the ground let alone flying for long periods above the clouds), and second was that it took a long time especially with trips like this one. If one was being safe, and Harry was always safe when he could manage it (there were too many times early on when he wasn't, and those situations always ended direly). As such they travelled only at night, and only high in the sky. It was freezing when you reached that high in the atmosphere, but it was safer than flying closer to the ground where you could be detected.

Another reason that Harry took so long flying to his current base of operations was that, when flying near Derby, he had received a distress call from an Order member he had thought died long ago in a botched operation to extract some muggleborns to a less dangerous area.

Harry landed smoothly on the snow-covered ground with a _crunch_ of frost under his boots. It was nearly dusk and they had a decent walk ahead of them. The base had the standard package of wards over it including some nasty wards designed to knock flying targets out of the air. There were two similar crunches, although one was a lot louder, and Harry looked over his shoulder to see Bianca picking herself up off the ground from her face-plant. Euan Abercrombie had landed less smoothly than Harry himself, but still a far cry better than Bianca had.

Harry gave the younger man a once over. Abercrombie looked like shit. He was a few years younger than Harry, having started at Hogwarts during Harry's fourth year, but already looked like he had scene enough war for a lifetime. His eyes were sunken, his hair stringy and dirty, and he looked gaunt and sickly. Harry had not given the younger boy much credit earlier on in the war, but he needed more members as the old guard had started to be killed off and Voldemort began to take more and more control over Britain. However, now that Abercrombie had surely been through hell, as Harry wasn't sure how he had managed to survive the last six months alone, Harry gave him a grudging warrior's respect. Abercrombie continued to soldier on and the world needed more heroes.

"Bloody brooms!" Bianca exclaimed in frustration as she brushed the cold snow off her damp robes. "Harry, can't we just, you know, Apparate? You-Know-Who hasn't been in Scotland forever."

That was Bianca being stupid again. The last time any of their number had decided to take the convenient way they had ended up in small pieces. "No. They can still track us and the last thing we need is to move our headquarters again," Harry replied firmly.

"I suppose," Bianca admitted reluctantly before biting her lower lip to stop her teeth from chattering. "Let's just get inside. I need to warm-up."

Harry didn't have any argument, and Abercrombie hadn't said a single word since he had called out to them from his hiding place two nights ago, so he set off with the two others trailing him.

It took only an hour or so to find the ruins of Gryffindor Tower. When Voldemort had taken Hogwarts by force in 1998 he had seen it fit to blast off the top of Gryffindor Tower with an unorthodox channelled spell. The tower itself had be cracked at the midway point and flown a good mile or so before landing on its side. It now served as a temporary base of operations for Harry and his followers while he watched over the abandoned and desolate Hogwarts castle. Harry had visited the ruins once, but found only the ghosts still frequented the place.

Once the three had bypassed the wards guarding the entrance to the base, Harry extracted himself from Bianca and headed to the command room while Abercrombie mutely sat on of the boxes of supplies that littered the entrance way.

"I heard you ran into Lestrange, again," came a leathery voice from behind him before he reached the command room.

Harry turned around to see Susan Bones standing against one of the curved walls, as the tower was circular and on its side their floors, walls, and ceilings were all curved, with one hand on her hip and the other resting against the wall itself for support.

Susan was Harry's de facto second in command, and had been with him the longest now that Neville had... well, was gone. She and Seamus tended to stick back at headquarters and coordinate the different members who were out and about trying to fight back against Voldemort. Her voice, once higher pitched and always cheerful, was now gravelly, like the late Alastor Moody's, thanks to a few curses from Lucius Malfoy early on in the war.

"Yeah. Lestrange got... well, everyone, I suppose. 'Cept Bianca and I," Harry said solemnly. In addition to Neville there were three other wizards and two witches with him on the lower levels of the safe house. They were either dead as well or being tortured in hopes they would know some information that would lead to Harry's capture. He forced himself to relax. Talking to one of his oldest friends like Susan had a way of calming him a bit.

The woman sauntered over towards Harry and held a hand to his cheek while looking up into his eyes. "Take it easy for a couple of days, Harry. You've been through a lot. Neville meant a lot to all of us." She offered Harry a small smile, and while she was still beautiful Harry could still see the worry in her eyes.

"Thanks," Harry grunted in acknowledgement as he felt Susan brush up against him. She certainly was feeling randy. Harry had shagged Susan a few times, since Luna had died, when they both had some pent up sexual frustration or anguish to release. "As much as I appreciate your willingness-" he shot her a carnal look "- I have to talk to Finnegan before he wets himself. He made it sound pretty urgent." He pulled himself apart from Susan, and then immediately regretted it in absence of the woman's body heat. "Later," he offered. It would be fun assuming he could get Bianca out of his hair.

Not put out at all, Susan merely followed Harry into what served as the command room. It was a small room lit by a single flickering candle that added much more light than it should have. Plastered all over the curved walls were maps, lists, and other intelligence information. In the event of an attack or breach they would all be ripped from the wall by magic and packed into an awaiting backpack.

Only Seamus was present in the command room currently. That wasn't surprising. He was one of the few people that used the area as he and Susan were currently the two members organizing excursions. He was hunched an old muggle CB radio and tuning it precisely when Harry cleared his throat. This caused Seamus to jump up slightly and spin around in his ratty old office chair.

"Oi, Potter. Good to see you back..." Seamus began before his typical smile faltered and stared off into nowhere for a while. "I guess its only us left here, isn't it?" By 'here' Seamus meant the very room they were occupying at the moment. This particular room had been home to the boys of Harry's year when he still attended Hogwarts. "Anyway..." he began, but trailed off with a wistful expression on his face. Typically they would have mourned far more than they were, and they definitely did at the start of the war, but now, with new deaths rolling in weekly they had enough taken to remembering the fallen in their own way. "It turns out we haven't been up here alone," Seamus continued as he looked between Susan and Harry.

"You mentioned something happening at Hogwarts?" Harry asked. Seamus had briefly explained, and in vague terms, that he needed to return to headquarters right away.

Seamus nodded and wheeled himself over to a stack of parchment and selected a few sheets from the top. He rolled back over towards Harry and handed them over. "Yeah. Malfoy and a couple of other Death Eaters, the smart ones mind you, were poking around. They've been here at least a week."

Harry took the offered parchment and scanned the list of names. _Lucius Malfoy. Adam Mulciber. Sylvanus Selwyn._ Those weren't Voldemort's fighting core. Lucius was one of Voldemort's most trusted inner circle members, who had been entrusted with one of the Dark Lord's soul fragments, and Mulciber and Selwyn were both experts in various protective wards and enchantments. This was exactly what Harry had expected. He shot Susan a sideways glance and their eyes met for the briefest of moments before recognition dawned in the woman's eyes. Harry nodded in affirmative. "Yeah. That's _exactly_ what is happening. Voldemort is finally trying to extract his Horcrux when he thinks no one is watching. He waited three bloody long years."

Seamus let out a low whistle. "So that's why you've got me freezing my dick off in northern Scotland, eh Potter? Good reason, I suppose..." he grinned. Seamus was one of those perpetually happy types and a little thing like the end of Britain wouldn't slow him down.

"If you kept it in your pants more often that wouldn't be a problem, Finnegan," Harry replied before shrugging his shoulders. "From the looks of these reports they've had some major work to do locating the damn thing and removing all the wards Voldemort must have put on it. Let's plan on recon tomorrow, and moving on them shortly after. I'd prefer it if we could time it so they've already extracted Horcrux before jumping them." He turned to Susan who gave him a raised eyebrow in an silent question. "Not tonight, Susan. I'd prefer to be alone." He headed towards the door before stopping in the frame. "Oh, and I found Abercrombie. The little shit is in deep shock. Get him some help and get him settled in." Even though Harry had exited he could still hear Susan and Seamus' conversation.

"Abercrombie? Blimey I thought that bloke had died long ago... anyway, Susan, if you're _that_ desperate for company you can always join Lisa and I, and hey, if Harry really wants to be alone we could add Sweeney as well..." Harry could picture the lecherous grin that was sure to be spreading across Finnegan's face. While Harry had spent nights in the company of several different witches since Luna had died, although on a far less emotional level, Seamus had taken casual sex to an entirely different level.

"Maybe in your dreams, Finnegan," came Susan's curt reply.

"Oh, you are..."

Harry did not need that mental image.

* * *

"_Mmm..." The sound of satisfaction slipped from Harry's mouth as the tender kiss broke. He pulled his head back and leaned against the cool, snow-covered rock. Even though his cheeks were red with blush, Harry felt no hindering embarrassment at what had just happened between himself and the witch across from him. It felt exhilarating. It felt liberating. Most of all it felt _right_. So what if it was cold? It was Christmas time after all, and while Harry was outside it was relatively mild. Then again, Harry felt rather warm right now. "Would you believe that was the first kiss I ever had that didn't involve someone crying?" He removed his glasses and wiped his the tears from them. "Well, the the person I was kissing, anyway." His tears had nothing to do from the kiss, but the thoughts and pent up emotions he'd been keeping bottled up in him until this afternoon._

_Luna Lovegood smiled at him dreamily. She was kneeling in the half-foot of snow that layered the ground mere inches from him. Seconds ago they had both done something rather unexpected, but definitely not wrong. Her dirty-blonde hair was damp from the wet snow that was permeating the area, and her cheeks were a bright pink from the occasional gusts of cool wind. Or was it that she was just as flustered about what had transpired as he was? Either way Harry had come to the conclusion that she was absolutely stunning and she certainly didn't look like she was repulsed by the kiss. "Maybe they had a poor case of the Twiskans? That'd make sense. They're notorious for making people leak salt water..."_

"_Or perhaps I'm just a poor kisser," Harry interjected dejectedly. He scooped up some snow in his hand and then let it fall off. It landed with a soft 'plop'._

"_Oh, Harry, you're definitely not a poor kisser. I rather enjoyed it." Luna was busy brushing snow off a flower that was half-buried beneath the snowy blanket with her mitten-covered hand. It was a moon lily. She'd explained this to him earlier when she'd first shown him this clearing._

_Harry felt his cheeks redden further. "Really? I'd have thought I'd be rubbish at it," he muttered. After a moment he realized how stupid that had sounded. _Harry you prat there's a girl telling you that you're a good kisser and you go and say that?_ "I mean... well..."_

_The Ravenclaw girl giggled serenely before taking off one of her woolly mittens and pressing her finger to Harry's lips. "Oh, Harry. I'm sure. I did quite enjoy it. I promise. That was my first kiss, mind you, so I don't have anything to compare it to, but all the same it really was fantastic."_

"_Well, I enjoyed it too. I just don't really know what I am doing..." Harry trailed off as he watched Luna play with the lily she had rescued. The flowers didn't seem to die or wilt in the coldest of seasons. Without anything more to say they both admired the scenery, neither caring about the amount of time spent, before Harry spoke. "Thank you for showing me this place, Luna. I was in such a bad place emotionally. I… didn't have anyone growing up, and I took everything the wrong way. I was a complete prat to everyone..._

"_I know what it is like to be lonely, Harry. You were just grieving over Sirius. I know all about that... my mum died when I was nine, you know... that's why I can see the threstrals and all. I think I was quite rude to daddy and everyone else after that for a long while. It's human to do so." Luna shifted herself and sat down in the snow beside him apparently not bothered by the cold that was now gripping his own rear end._

"_I'm sorry, Luna. Here I was dumping all my problems on you over Sirius and you've had your own problems..."_

"_Harry, your habit of apologizing is quite silly if I may say so. I remember my mum in my own way just like you remember your parents," Luna explained as she idly played with the moon lily she had picked. "That's really what it is about, you know. They might be gone from this world, but they're never gone from our hearts, and that is what really matters."_

_To Harry, a boy who had suffered far too much loss in his life, the words brought more comfort than even, who seemed acutely perceptive when she wanted to be, Luna could realize. It was easy to think that just because he barely had time to know his parents that his longing for a family would be any less than any other child's. That was not the case, and when Sirius had been dropped into his lap at the end of third year for the first time Harry had dared to hope, to dream, of a future where he was wanted by someone as fiercely as he wanted someone back. "Thanks, Luna... I don't know what I'd have done without you. I'm sorry for putting you in the position I am, with all my troubles on your shoulders... you put a lot of things in perspective for me today, though..."_

_Luna turned to look at him in the eye as the two of them sat side by side against the large rock that dominated the clearing. "What did I say about apologizing, Mr. Potter," she admonished him playfully. "It eases the loneliness having someone to talk to. I don't have many friends, you know, and those I do, like Ginny, well, she has her own large family which you yourself have come to realize." That was one of the points that had driven Harry into a poor mood this holiday season. It wasn't the Weasley family's fault in any way, but Harry did feel like an outcast._

"_Well you're my friend," Harry stated with conviction. "Anyone who tells you otherwise is barkers." He stopped as some pressure in his chest began to build. He felt warm despite sitting in snow. "In fact, you're the only one who seems to know how this truly feels..." His heart began to beat faster. He was coming to realization as to why this was happening, but it nearly scared him senseless. He didn't want to bollocks this up! _Well, Gryffindors Forward_, he thought. "I..." his voice caught and he looked away in embarrassment. He forced himself to turn back and noticed Luna staring at him dreamily, but there was a hint of a mischievous smile on her lips as if she was aware what was going on inside Harry's mind. She'd been very good at that. This did nothing to ease Harry's trepidation. "Luna, I don't have anyone to confide in, really... you've done more for me here than anyone else has in... well, ever, you know... I guess, um... would you... help me remember more?" His cheeks burned. "Okay, that was silly, um..."_

_To his surprise, Luna laughed. For a moment his darkest fears began to rise up from within him, but Luna's next words changed everything: "Oh, Harry, you're a wonderful person. I do enjoy your company and, really, I was hoping you'd ask me that. I will most certainly be your girlfriend."_

_Harry was floored for a moment. "You got that out of what I said?" The tension within him had evaporated abruptly, and he knew, although he scarcely cared given what had just happened, he was wearing somewhat of a loopy grin._

"_Close your mouth, Harry, before the Nargles get in. They like moon lilies as much as mistletoe," Luna instructed him with a caring smile. "You might not be good with words, but your heart is always in the right place." She leaned her head onto his shoulder and her hand slipped into his and their fingers interlocked._

_To Harry everything felt right. "I'm glad to have someone I can confide in, Luna, and someone who can keep my mind level. I don't really have anyone who can keep me straight. Or maybe someone that I can, well, you know what, I'll say it. I'm a Gryffindor after all. Argh. What I mean to say is that I'm happy to have someone that I can love, or at least learn to love. I take everything upon myself and need someone to share my thoughts with, to let it out before it becomes... what it just did," he paused for a moment. "You've really been there for me, Luna. More than you probably know. You see my problems, but you don't shy away from it or dance around the fact. You're still my friend after it all and then you still help me sort out my feelings. You don't simply tell me 'its not your fault so you shouldn't feel bad'. I don't even really know how to express it in words, but you're very special to me." He took another moment. "Does that sound silly?" He didn't want for answer, but Luna shook her head anyway. "I can't describe it, but I realize by now you're a lot better at understanding me than I am at explaining myself." He shrugged sheepishly. By now the words will spilling out of him. "I guess I need someone to lean on."_

"_Actually, Harry, I'm the one leaning on _your_ shoulder," Luna stated with a mock seriousness. "You're too good of a person to be alone. I like to believe we understand and respect each other. It might not be love... at least not yet," she added the last part before Harry could get the wrong understanding. "But I would definitely say it is Like." She used her bare hand to dab a few more of the left over tears from his cheek. "I was rather fond of the other part of being 'In Like'."_

"_Oh? What's that?" Harry asked. He felt considerably more at ease now knowing that Luna had not rejected, but accepted him. He could proudly say he was 'in Like' with Luna Lovegood._

"_The first kiss was perfectly acceptable and enjoyable, Harry, but I believe I should have something to compare it to."_

_Harry nodded blankly._

Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He felt much calmer than before. These days his nightmares were getting worse, and only thing that could make Harry feel better were his memories of happier times. That particular memory, of when he opened his heart to someone for the first time, was his favourite.

He sat up from his desk and sent a flutter of parchment all over the floor. He frowned and bent down to pick up the litter. As he stood back up he caught a glimpse of himself in Sirius' two-way mirror. He looked like crap, and he knew it. He set about making himself look like he still gave a fuck. Harry had learned a long time ago that his appearance and attitude had a strong effect on the morale of his people.

A loud creak echoed around Harry's barren sleeping quarters. He was about to complain about the intrusion into his privacy when a resounding bang of the door slammed into the wall. Harry heard two sets of footsteps enter the room. "I hope this is important," Harry muttered loud enough so that the new arrivals would hear.

"Yeah, yeah. Drop the moody shit, Potter. You'll _like_ this, I _promise_," said Lisa Turpin. Lisa had been in Ravenclaw at Hogwarts, and one of the few students to give Hermione a run for her money. Lisa had no disfiguring marks or permanent scars. Her black hair was shorter than the last time Harry had seen it, coming down to the nape of her neck, and on her best days her eyes seemed alight with the same intelligence that Albus Dumbledore once displayed, although never with the same wisdom. She wasn't particularly useful when it came to a battle, but she was Harry's most successful spy. She had no problems infiltrating the other side since she was from a prestigious pureblood family, and she had virtually no contact with Harry and his friends back at Hogwarts. Because of this, there was no suspicion about her motives. For Lisa herself to be here meant she had something important to say.

"You'll _really_ like this," Susan affirmed from beside the spy. She gave Harry an appraising look as the latter was dressed merely in his boxers. She looked hungry.

"Get on with it," Harry ordered. "I'm not in the mood for suspense." There would have been a time where being almost naked in front of two beautiful women would have bothered Harry, but it was too early in the morning and too late in the war to worry about such sentiment.

Lisa pouted for a moment before clearing her throat to make sure she had Harry's undivided attention. "I know where the Carrows will be tonight."

That made Harry stand up straight. The Carrows were a brother and sister tandem named Amycus and Alecto that had caused Harry quite a bit of pain and loss in the past. They weren't the greatest wizard and witch, but they made up for all the lacked in power with unabated cruelty. Harry had carved several names into his epitaph because of them. "Do you, now?" Although it sounded like Harry had taken the news less than seriously neither woman could mistake the dark look in his eyes.

The spy pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. "Of course I do. Have I ever been wrong before, Harry?" When Harry didn't reply to her playful barb she continued: "They'll be leading a team of new Death Eater recruits in a raid on Godric's Hollow. There's a few magical families there that they feel should be murdered. Or tortured. Or raped. You know, the usual."

Harry had already finished getting dressed and was gathering supplies by the time Lisa finished her first sentence. When he was done he pushed his way past the two women to the door. He planned to paint whatever surroundings red with the blood of the Carrows as they begged, like so many of their victims, for mercy. He was going to take a page out of their playbook tonight and not grant it. "What you are two still standing there, for? Get everyone together. We are not missing this chance."

"Is he always this eager?" Lisa asked the other woman after Harry's quick departure.

Susan sighed. "Not eager enough for my liking."

Lisa could only roll her eyes. "He's too far gone for that, and you know it. Don't get me wrong, Harry's a great and powerful wizard, but I think he's entirely passed what you're looking for."

"So you think I should hook up with Finnegan for a quick shag, then?" Susan retorted with more venom in her voice than she intended.

The other woman shuddered. "Perish the thought. He keeps trying, of course, but I do have _some_ standards. I'd probably catch something, anyway." Lisa gave Susan a sympathetic look. "I'm not talking about sex, and we both know it. The war's been especially hard on Harry. He's too damaged."

"A girl can dream," Susan said.

Lisa didn't have the heart to say anything more.

* * *

It was dusk when the battle started. Harry and his squad had waited in the house of one of the Death Eaters' intended targets. The families had been evacuated to safety. All they had to do was sit back and wait. Harry always found the waiting part difficult especially when his prey was so near.

"They're here," Harry's radio blipped. His scout had confirmed the Death Eaters were entering Godric's Hollow. Harry looked around and gave a nod of approval. Everyone was ready.

When the Death Eaters broke into the house by blowing in the front door they were met rudely. Where they had expected no opposition they instead found Harry Potter. Several Death Eaters were cut down the moment they stepped through the door by the squad's initial barrage. The survivors had fled instantly.

That didn't matter, though, as Harry had instructed his wards expert and curse-breaker, Bill Weasley, to cover the area with an Anti-Apparation ward. In short, the Death Eaters were going to die in Godric's Hollow.

Harry was after four Death Eaters which included the Carrow siblings. He threw a glance over his shoulder and saw that two of his own group had broken away from the main skirmish as well: Sturgis Podmore, veteran of the first war with Voldemort and a former member of the Order of the Phoenix, and Megan Jones, who had been in Harry's year at school. Harry was confident in his ability to take both Amycus and Alecto Carrow. In his Hogwarts' years he might have been more hesitant and waited for his back up, but he had seen too much bloodshed and death to let someone else die for him. The rest of his squad were likely mopping up the inexperienced Death Eaters and would be able to overwhlem the Carrows if needed. All Harry had to do was keep the remaining Death Eaters from reaching the edges of the ward and escaping.

The Godric's Hollow cemetery, where last year Voldemort had desecrated his parents' graves, loomed ahead of him. The four Death Eaters had already taken refuge among the headstones. The graveyard was dark, and had numerous locations to set up an ambush.

The Carrows knew that they would be unable to escape the Anti-Apparation wards, and had wisely chosen a good location to attempt to fight off all attackers.

If the Carrows were ready to fight to their deaths, Harry was more than ready to oblige them. Harry ran into the graveyard as fast as he could, only slowing down in his advance momentarily to send a ball of light into the sky. He shielded his eyes just in time before the spell exploded and bathed the graveyard in brilliant light. With a reductor curse he took the head off a blinded Death Eater who was stumbling around without cover. He locked his gaze on another black-robed figure diving behind a large headstone which in turn shattered under Harry's second blasting curse.

"Oi, Potter! Down! They're coming up from 'ur flank an'-" Podmore's warning, to say the least, was unnecessary.

Harry had already conjured a shield that absorbed the woefully inept hexes with a splash of different colours. He swiftly returned fire and saw the second Death Eater drop without a sound.

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

Harry casually summoned a broken headstone and the Killing Curse dissipated harmlessly against it. With a flick of his wand he sent a myriad of curses and hexes, some of the nastiest he knew, in the direction where the killing curse had originated. He was quickly rewarded by a scream of pain. As he was unwilling to give the injured Death Eater a chance to regroup or cast any of the counter-curses required on himself, Harry walked towards the crypt where the Death Eater had hidden himself. There he found Amycus Carrow lying on his back helpless.

The man's wand arm was broken in two locations, and his wand lay at his side. His legs were boneless, and his eyes puffy and swollen. He had taken at least three of Harry's curses. "Potter," Carrow wheezed. "Going to finish the job?"

Harry's response was to bring his heel down on Amycus' wand. It broke in two with a _snap_. He stalked the downed man for a moment, pacing all around him. "You killed Luna," he said simply.

Amycus coughed up some blood. "Damn right I did, you mudblood. Had my way with her too." He gave Harry a bloody smile.

A younger Harry might have kicked Amycus in the face. Instead, he looked down at the doomed Death Eater dispassionately. Instinctively, Harry turned around and launched a bludgeoning hex straight into the skull of Alecto who had been attempting to sneak up behind him. He summoned the witches' dazed body and bound her with ropes beside her fallen brother.

"Oh, you got them," huffed Megan, who was clearly out of breath from the chase. "Let me get-"

"No."

"Huh?" Megan asked naively. "Aren't we bringing them back to-"

"No," Harry interrupted the woman. "Take Sturgis and leave. Get everyone back to the rendezvous point. Don't wait around for me."

Megan was wise enough to not ask any further questions and made a hasty retreat.

"Now then, where were we?" Harry asked while he swished his wand through the air and conjured a stool. "Luna. You killed her."

"The crazy girl?" Alecto asked while still a bit out of her mind from the blow she had taken to the head.

"Its interesting that you should bring that up," Harry noted. "She had this nickname in school. Loony Lovegood. I didn't appreciate it very much."

Amycus and Alecto both shuddered at the cool tone of Harry's voice. They had been in enough meetings with their Lord to recognize when someone was about to bubble over.

"I do have a favor to ask, though."

Silence.

"If we meet in the next life, you will have to tell me... is being loony as much fun as Luna made it out to be?" He pointed his wand at Amycus and calmly spoke the incantation: "_Crucio_."

* * *

A/N: We meet Daphne in the next chapter. Don't fret.


	3. A Merciful Man No More

**The Love of a Good Woman**

Disclaimer: I _may_ be insane, but my beta _definitely_ is.

Thanks: To Sir Chris for all his wonderful Beta work even if it leaves me with a few new grey hairs each time. I wouldn't have been able to do it without you. Thank you again for the great Chapter titles.

A/N: How time flies! I realize it has been a while, but here we have the largest chapter yet complete with 100% more Daphne. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing.

_**Chapter 3: A Merciful Man No More**_

"_Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light." Albus Dumbledore (POA Movie)_

Harry watched the blood ooze out of Alecto Carrow's nose, ears, and mouth with a dispassionate look in his eyes. She had ultimately deserved her fate, but Harry had not intended to do _this._ The Cruciatus Curse was meant to _torture,_ not kill. Albus Dumbledore always did tell him that love was his greatest strength, and if the mangled corpse of Alecto Carrow gave any indication that still held true. After taking a moment to compose himself Harry flicked his wand towards Alecto's brother.

Amycus' head snapped to the right, even with the ground, so that he could see the only person he ever loved die before him. The man stared blankly in ahead before weakly attempting to turn away.

"I don't think so! _Legilimens_," Harry spat angrily. He ravaged the man's mind and tore free every memory he could find relating to Alecto, and brought them to the forefront of Amycus' consciousness. "Do you remember, now, Carrow? Do you remember _now_!"

"Alecto..." Amycus wheezed, before he cracked a red smile which caused a trickle of blood to roll down his cheek. He was clearly remembering happier times.

"_Finite_," Harry stated needlessly while studying Amycus' reaction closely. "She's dead," Harry reminded Carrow. "How does it feel to lose the woman you loved?" Harry recoiled the moment he recognized the look of complete despair on Amycus' face as one he had seen in the mirror after Luna's death. Harry had to take a deep breath to remember who had come to this battle with the Death Eater mask on and who hadn't.

Still, there were questions to be answered.

Harry took a step forward and delivered a kick straight to the Death Eater's ribs. The Death Eater groaned and curled up into the fetal position. There was something Harry needed to know. He used his foot to reposition Carrow onto his back. "How did you know where to find us that night?"

The man gave no reply and looked back defiantly.

Harry applied some pressure onto Carrow's broken ribs with his foot. "Now is not the time to believe yourself to be a hero, Carrow."

As far as Amycus was concerned the mudblood that murdered his sister didn't deserve whatever it was he wanted, although he was unsure how much longer he could withstand the pain. As Potter had said, he knew he was no hero. "I don't know what you're fucking talking about, Potter. Are you talking about the time that I fucked your crazy bi-"

Harry's response was a kick that knocked several teeth from Amycus' jaw. "I don't know what it is about that supposed blood purity of yours that makes you so bloody fucking stupid!" Harry ran a hand through his hair and looked down at Amycus only to realize he was now talking to himself.

"Ennervate," Harry said.

Amycus' eyes snapped open and he immediately half-choked-half-spit up a mouthful of blood and broken teeth. He groaned as he tentatively touched his swollen face with his good arm.

The pathetic state of Harry's company didn't stop him from pacing in front of the man. "I'm sorry, Carrow. I shouldn't let my emotions get the better of me," he said honestly. "I know that makes me lose the position of control and all, but frankly I'm new to this whole extracting information situation." He shrugged flippantly. "At least from this side of it." He received a sneer from the battered and bruised man on the ground, or at least as much of a sneer as Amycus could manage given he no longer had teeth. Harry took that as a sign to continue. "As I was asking nicely: How did you know where Luna and I would be that night?"

"Go ta hell," Carrow slurred defiantly.

"Oh. I've been there Carrow. I've been there for over two years now," Harry paused in his speech for a moment to consolidate his power.

Carrow shuddered at the sheer force behind Harry's presence.

Harry grinned at Carrow. "I suppose I have to be the welcoming committee. Welcome to hell, Amycus Carrow."

And then Carrow screamed.

* * *

Harry faced the tombstone of his parents with a sad smile on his face. "The murderers of your daughter are dead now," Harry said simply. He did not know how long he stood there, time didn't much matter to him at that point. Finally, a noise from behind brought him out of his reverie. He turned to face the person who had been spying on him.

Sturgis Podmore stood, shakily, a good twenty yards away. He was leaning on another headstone for support while he took a swig from his flask.

"Do you want something, Podmore?" Harry demanded. "I thought I told you all to leave me alone."

"Jus' wanted to see for myself, is all..." Podmore replied before taking a second gulp from the flask. It was obvious the man was drunk.

"See what, exactly?" Harry said while his eyes narrowed. Feeling defensive, he added: "They deserved what happened to them tonight."

"That may well 'ave been true," Podmore conceded while he shuffled closer. He nearly tripped over his own feet. The older man took his cap off and held it over his heart while he examined the graves of James and Lily Potter. "Ey, lad. I knew 'ur parents... great witch and wizard, but they would never 'ave condoned what you did."

Harry opened and closed his mouth several times as he struggled to find a retort that would suffice for the man's subtle betrayal. "You don't know that," he said icily while giving Sturgis a withering glare. He then softened ever so slightly after seeing the man recoil. "Different times, I suppose."

Podmore held up his hands defensively after he replaced his hat on his head. "I wasn't sayin' what ya did was wrong, Potter. The ruddy bas'ards got what they had comin' ta them. I was jus' sayin' that ya shouldn't speak to ta dead with blood all over your hands."

The man did have a point, Harry supposed. Although there was not any actual blood on his hands he wiped them off symbolically on his robes nonetheless.

* * *

Harry entered the ruins of Gryffindor Tower in the middle of the night, but more people than he would have figured were up and about celebrating their victory. Several Death Eaters had been captured or killed, and their intended targets were evacuated to safely. Additionally, despite the fact that no one other than perhaps Sturgis had witnessed Harry's treatment of the Carrows, everyone knew. He got several pats on the back, in which Harry was not entirely sure he was deserving of. Still, he reminded himself, he had successfully brought down more than a dozen Death Eaters and robbed Voldemort of two of his more sadistic lieutenants.

"Atta boy, Potter!"

"Showed 'em whats what, mate. Bloody brilliant!"

"You know where to find me tonight, Harry..."

The last one, from a witch that was old enough to be Harry's mother, made him roll his eyes.

Harry found his way through thickets of his celebrating followers, who each in turn stopped him to congratulate him once again on his stunning victory, to his room. When he arrived he instantly knew that something was amiss. The door was slightly cracked open. Harry never left his room anything less than secure, and that meant complete with more than a few security charms and curses. He flicked his wrist and, from his dragon-scale holster, his wand appeared in his hand. A kick sent the heavy wooden door flying open. He advanced two steps into the room before his eyes narrowed at the sight that greeted him. His wand arm lowered.

"Why hello, Potter. Some good stuff you got-" Lisa Turpin began before a hiccup, that shot a few flames from her throat, interrupted her. "-here. Why aren't you sharing?" she asked giving him puppy dog eyes as she held up her glass of Firewhiskey so Harry could see and gave it a swirl.

"You just thought you'd help yourself to my liquor cabinet, did you?" Harry rhetorically asked as he closed the door behind him. He kept his wand in his hand, though, as he'd learned long ago to never be caught flat footed. He didn't think Lisa would be any problem, though, because of two reasons. The first was that she was clearly, and utterly, smashed. The second was that she had clearly been crying prior to his entry. Her eyes were puffy and her cheeks were stained. "And just how, pray tell, did you get in here?"

Lisa giggled and took another swig from her glass before getting, slowly and with much wobbling, to her feet. "I'm a spy, remember? You trained me on half of this stuff... it was nothing harder than what would be on the door to a Lord's study."

"I see," Harry replied as he tossed his cloak onto a simple wooden chair that served, more or less, as a place for all his discarded clothing. He went and poured himself a drink of his own while he mentally berated himself. His defenses needed to be stronger if a distraught, or drunk, witch could simply break in to his quarters without difficulty. Lisa didn't appear to be suffering from any of the symptoms he'd expect if she hadn't undone the security outright. "So, why are you drinking all the wonderfully aged Firewhiskey I liberated from the Lestrange's?"

"Oh, Harry," Lisa cooed while batting her eyelashes at him. "I'm just trying to forget all the blood that's on my hands. That's all."

"Excuse me?" Harry growled as he straightened up to his full height. "Blood on _your_ hands? I didn't see you out there finger painting with the Carrow's blood." He bristled at the insinuation. After all he had done, and those he had lost on the battlefield, how dare _she_ be the one to complain.

Lisa rewarded him with a cold and condescending laugh. "That's what you think, Potter? You think its easy being your little double agent? When I give you information you run off and slaughter them. I'm the reason they're dead pure and simple." She sauntered forward as seductively as she could while stumbling and fighting to keep her balance. Her expression softened as she closed the distance. She tripped, perhaps intentionally, and wrapped her arms around Harry's neck to prevent herself from ending up on the floor. Some of the Firewhiskey sloshed over the edge of the glass and soaked in to the back of Harry's shirt. "But itsssss okay," she slurred huskily into Harry's ear. "I forgive you."

Harry snorted in amusement. As much as he wanted to refute what Lisa had said, he had to admit she did have a point, at least from her perspective. "I'll take it, I suppose," he replied before sucking in his breath when the woman nibbled on his ear lobe. The intimate action pushed any annoyance he held in his mind aside.

"Hem hem." The female voice came from behind Harry in a passable imitation of Delores Umbridge. He quickly spun around, Lisa still clutched firmly against him, and found Susan standing in the doorway.

"You little trollop," Susan commented cheerfully as she walked into the room before shutting the door and locking it with a flick of her wand. Although her tone was playful Harry couldn't help but notice a hint of jealousy in her expression. "I didn't let you in here to seduce Harry. Alone, anyway."

Much to Harry's disappointment, Lisa extracted herself from Harry and faced Susan before defiantly sticking out her tongue. "You're just mad you got called away by Finnegan."

Susan didn't waste any time as she aggressively strode right up to Harry, grabbed him by the collar, and pulled him towards the bed. "I've waited long enough for this, Potter," she growled as she straddled him across the hips. "What are you waiting for, Turpin?"

There were several nights that Harry Potter had difficulty sleeping. This had all the makings of one of the more enjoyable occasions.

* * *

**30th November, 2001**

"Everyone's ready and waiting for your signal," Seamus informed Harry curtly. Seamus had been short with him every since the man had walked in on him in bed with both Susan Bones and Lisa Turpin on the morning after the Godric's Hollow raid. Seamus felt he had some sort of claim on the latter witch.

Harry was pleased that Lisa seemed to corner of Harry's mouth twitched as he fought off a smile at the memory of _that_ evening. "Good," Harry replied without taking his eyes off the abandoned ruins of Hogwarts castle.

The strike team was an assembly of some of the best fighters Harry had under his command. Harry was leading one squad, and Susan had command of the other. The formidable witch had proven to be an effective leader having earned the respect of everyone around her, including Harry.

There had been reconnaissance done by Harry's friends for over a week on the Death Eater activities within the former school. They learned that Lucius Malfoy a small force of Death Eaters. Often on guard duty on the exterior of the castle were some younger recruits Harry was largely unfamiliar with. Harry only recognized one, Marcus Flint, but the others were about similar age. All of that being said, Harry was taking no chances. Flint and his cronies might not win in a fair fight, but Harry knew that life was seldom fair. He had long ago tired of burying his friends.

The mission was simple. Neutralize the Death Eaters as quickly and as silently as possible and destroy the Horcrux before anyone, save for the dead, knew that they were there. If Malfoy or the others raised the alarm, Voldemort himself would arrive, and Harry didn't want to have that particular confrontation yet.

Harry slipped his invisibility cloak over himself and watched Flint light a cigarette. The calmness in the Death Eater's actions suggested he was unaware of Harry's presence.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Patriarch of the Malfoy family, watched the scene before him with anticipation. Mulciber and Selwynn had begun to remove the final ward protecting his master's Horcrux. It was apparent that his knowledge of his Lord's Horcruxes was a benefit and not a liability since he alone had been tasked with its removal from Hogwarts. Even the lesser Death Eaters and Ministry workers realized that when the Chief Warlock was sent away for two weeks at the Dark Lord's personal command it was for something extremely important.

The Malfoy family had been hit hard in the early days of Second Wizarding War. Unfortunately, Lucius himself had been caught up in the failed raid on the Department of Mysteries within the first year of his Lord's return. That had been an unmitigated disaster for the House of Malfoy. All of the influence Lucius and his father before him had gained in the ministry had vanished in the instant he was exposed as a Death Eater. Search warrants were obtained shortly after his arrest and his family's assets were seized mercilessly. In the Wizarding World if a House had no of age heir it was impossible to protect their interests. His son, Draco, was underage and Lucius had no brothers or surviving uncles. His two sisters did not warrant a session with the Wizengamot when it came to saving the Malfoy estate from goblin creditors or Aurors acting on behalf of the Ministry.

Draco had done well in repairing the family image within the Death Eater circles due to the death of Albus Dumbledore. It was a few years before the Ministry fell, as did the Order of the Phoenix, and the Dark Lord took command of what was rightfully his.

Despite Lucius' unfortunate presence near two mishaps, he was spared a quick death at the hand of the Killing Curse thanks in a large part of his son's success. He had rebuilt the Malfoy fortunes with his new found influence in the Ministry. He had fathered another son, Narcissus, in hopes to produce a large amount of male grandchildren and expand the family's already considerable influence with strategic marriages. The Malfoy family had existed centuries prior to the birth of Lord Voldemort and it would exist centuries after. If there was ever a situation in the future where Draco was unable to perform the duties required of a Head of House having another of age heir would keep the House from being attacked politically by rivals.

There was just one hitch in the plan: Harry Potter. The knave had proven to be an utter nuisance. It was Potter that had resulted in Lucius' capture during the spring of 1995. Lucius held Potter personally responsible for the eventual shame and hardship the Malfoy family had suffered. It was for this reason that Lucius longed to confront the boy. It was a driving force that kept Lucius going when times were toughest. He'd already taken revenge after his return to grace on some of those who had sided with Potter such as the Weasleys, the Lovegoods, and the MacMillans. Those families were in ruins and their Houses bankrupt or their interests purchased outright with his vast reclaimed fortune. The only task of importance was the capture of Potter. Capture, and not kill, because Lucius wasn't feeling adventurous enough to kill Potter when his Lord had expressly forbade it. That was the _only_ reason.

"How much longer, Mulciber?" Lucius asked impatiently while he fiddled with his cane. After two bloody long weeks in the ruins of a castle he was ready to leave and spend a night or two at one of his favorite brothels. It was true that his wife was beautiful enough to make any wizard jealous, but there was just something about having his way with an unwilling witch that made him feel alive.

"About the same as last time ye asked, Malfoy," came the curt reply from a small and gaunt wizard who didn't bother to look up from the diagrams of runes spread out all over the floor. "We'll be out of here tonight if ye stop interrupting Sylvanus and I, here."

Malfoy let Mulciber's back-talk slide. Soon he would be out of this ruddy castle with the Dark Lord's Horcrux in hand. He would be rewarded handsomely, of course. He was the only one of the Dark Lord's servants still among the living that knew of the Horcrux since the _unfortunate_ and _untimely _death of his sister-in-law, Bellatrix Lestrange. Thus he was the only one who could fulfill the mission without the Dark Lord having to reveal his secret to others. He let a smirk play across his face as he watched Mulciber and Selwynn bring down the final ward. Maybe the Dark Lord would even allow him and his sons the honor of killing Potter.

It took all of two seconds after that thought for Lucius' lofty dreams to come crashing down around him as the screams of his subordinates echoed throughout the hollow castle.

"What tha-" Selwynn shouted as he jumped up and looked at the door. He narrowly dodged a wayward bludgeoning curse that left a head-sized crater in the stone wall behind him.

"It's... Potter!" sputtered a dying Death Eater whose robes were in tatters and had multiple burn holes. He barely made it to Malfoy before dropping dead on the floor.

That was all the convincing Malfoy needed. Images of Amycus Carrow's mutilated body jumped to the front of Lucius' mind. He did the only thing a cunning Slytherin would do in a situation such as this: he ran for his life. He pushed his way past Mulciber and snatched up the Horcrux, using a cloth of course as touching the thing would make what happened to Carrow look like the epitome of good health, and made a dash down the corridor away from the fighting. The Hogwarts anti-apparation ward was one of the few wards still in place and he couldn't simply apparate away.

A chilling scream signaled that Mulciber had been slain, and the pleas from Selwynn for mercy indicated to Malfoy that he was on his own. He chanced a glance back over his shoulder. There stood Harry Potter. He unsheathed his wand from its cane and let loose a flurry of dark hexes and curses in sheer panic.

* * *

Harry Potter was displeased. What should have been a simple, and quiet, mission had turned into an outright battle after one of his lesser skilled recruits accidentally let herself be seen by Flint. A brief battle had ensued resulting in the death of two of his group and the grievous wounding of Oliver Wood.

They had quickly dispatched the remaining Death Eaters due to their superior numbers and element of surprise, but Malfoy and the others inside had been warned. It hadn't been difficult to push through the meek resistance even in the narrow corridors of Hogwarts. Harry had made quick work of Mulciber, and caused Selwynn to surrender by merely walking into the room. The latter had reported amid pleas for his life that as soon as the fighting started Malfoy had taken something and ran for his life.

Harry had immediately run after Malfoy. He had no problem pursuing Malfoy throughout the castle, but he encountered a problem when his prey had decided to try and fight. Malfoy was not much of a duelist, but the erratic spellcasting from the frightened wizard had caused a corridor to cave in.

Hogwarts' magic was slowly ebbing away and was on its way to ruin like many other castles of its time. Walls that used to absorb magic now gave way to it. It had taken Harry a few precious moments to clear away the rubble.

When Harry had finally made his way out of the castle he found that Malfoy had disarmed the two wizards he'd left on guard, relieved one of them of his broom, and had sped off towards Hogsmeade. Malfoy would likely begin attempting to ditch the broom and hide in Hogsmeade before apparating who knew where. Since it was extremely difficult to apparate while moving Malfoy would be unable to do so even when he crossed the ward boundaries. Given that Harry was fast closing the gap with his superior Firebolt that he had been carrying shrunk in his robes, Malfoy would be lucky to have more than half a minute on the ground.

While flying Harry stuck his hand into his robes and pulled out a small, smooth, and innocent looking stone. With a tap of his wand the rock was bathed in a shimmering blue light invoking the latent charms cast upon it. He felt a familiar shudder as the portable anti-apparation wards sprang to life. Malfoy wouldn't be able to simply pop away as long as Harry kept the stone fairly close to the Death Eater.

Harry landed on the ground, shrunk his broom to fit in his pocket, and stalked after Malfoy who had disappeared down an alley.

* * *

Phineas Ashworth was a middle-aged wizard who had the unfortunate luck to have his hair thin prematurely and had formed a Firewhiskey gut prior to his fiftieth birthday. Phineas was also the proprietor of one of the most successful brothels in Wizarding Britain, Ashworth's Vexing Vixens. This evening Phineas was busy educating one of his more reluctant new employees on how things worked in the industry when there was a loud, almost frantic, banging on the front door.

The building itself was nothing special. It was purposely inconspicuous because it catered to the elite crowd of power purebloods. Because many of the patrons held prestigious positions in society the main door to the building was located in a darkened alley.

Phineas grumbled as he waddled towards the door, his belly jiggling as he walked, and hollered over his shoulder: "We're not done yet, Tracey, ya hear?" According to Phineas the problem with his new arrivals was a lack of respect. He and his establishment gave them food and shelter while only only asking for a few hours a night of their time. Despite this it always seemed as if he had a few girls that resisted and needed to be broken in more harshly than he would have liked. He was a caring man at heart.

Phineas reached the door and slid open a small window located at eye level. Immediately upon seeing who had been knocking he pulled open the door. "Oi if it isn't Lucius! Are ye lookin' to purchase another whore?" Lucius Malfoy, the Chief Warlock, was one of his most important patrons. Malfoy had frequented the brothel for years, recommended it to his colleagues, and even donated some girls every now and then for everyone to enjoy.

"Not now Phineas, you simpleton! Get out of my way!" Malfoy shouted hurriedly while he pushed his way into the building, but not before sparing another glance out into the alley in trepidation.

Phineas grunted in annoyance and watched Malfoy head for the stairs. "Ack! Ya give a man a few too many trollops and he gonna go an' think he runnin' the place..." he grumbled and made ready to close the door. He'd never seen Malfoy this eager for company before, but given the man's importance to his operation he'd take a bit of rudeness every now and then. "Arrgh!" he cried out in pain and surprise. Just as he was closing the door it had been violently flung back open. The door had caught Phineas in the chest, sending him staggering back a few steps, and knocked the wind clean out of him. He glared at the raven-haired man as he wiped the water from his eyes and tried not to break into tears in front of Tracey, a girl he'd been trying for a month to break in, but it really hurt!

"Bloody lunatics..." Phineas muttered to himself as the pain slowly ebbed away. He slammed the door shut in anger. The younger man had already scampered up the stairs that Malfoy had ascended moments earlier. "Maybe wantin' one of them new girls before the regulars break 'em in..." he shrugged. He didn't care how excited his clients got, and was willing to forgive transgression such as the one that had just happened, as long as they kept his pockets lined with galleons. He was a caring man like that.

* * *

Daphne Greengrass paced around the small, simple room anxiously. It was one of the many similar bedrooms of the brothel she had been assigned to after her master had decided once and for all he was done putting up with her. She knew that shortly she would have to make due with yet another customer; most likely a greasy, dirty man twice her age. The man would be looking for company, and she would smile and give it to him, because he would not appreciate it if she didn't wear a smile. To stop herself from pacing she took a seat in an armchair near the fireplace. The room was rather drafty despite the full set of robes she was wearing. That was because underneath she was clad in only a lacy bra and some small, tight knickers. Most clients didn't want to be bothered removing excess clothing. She folded her arms firmly and laid her hands in her lap while she tried forget where she was just for a moment. Try as she might, she was unable to find a suitable happy memory to take her mind away from what was about to happen tonight, and again tomorrow evening, and every evening for as long as it took for the customers to tire of her and have the owner of the brothel, a man known to her only as Phineas, cast her out to become a lowly street whore. She snorted defiantly. Clearly being a whore in a brothel was _so_ much better.

Daphne rose to her feet again discontent with sitting around in the chair while the few precious moments alone ticked away. When she had first arrived at the brothel courtesy of the Malfoy family she had been unyielding albeit scared. Not frightened for herself, but for her sister whom she would no longer be able to watch over and protect. _'Although I did a very poor job...'_ She turned to the mirror located on the mantle over the fireplace to make sure that the water accumulating in the corners of her eyes would not disrupt the thick layers of eyeshadow she was forced to wear. If it was not perfect there was a chance a client might complain and she'd find herself without food, or without sleep, or perhaps triple the chores for several days. The visage of the girl looking back at her gave her pause. Her dark hair, although clean, looked frayed at the tips from neglect. It had once been glossy and maintained, but now was dryer and stringy. The cool blue eyes that formerly shone with keen intelligence and harbored a challenging gaze now appeared glassy and frequently unfocused. Her face was gaunt, with crow's feet forming in the corner's of her eyes, from having little to eat and weeks of continual stress.

Although she had been through the process for over a month her nerves had never quite settled. _'And why should my nerves settle? I need to leave... I need to save myself,'_ she thought, for once acknowledging her own plight rather than focusing on her sister. She scowled at herself in the mirror, although she pretended that it was only her appearance that she was displeased with at the moment before she turned and stalked towards the dresser on the opposite side of the room. Daphne knew that if she did not help herself first there would be no chance of saving Astoria.

Daphne pulled open the top drawer and dug beneath the few personal belongings she was allowed before finding what she was looking for: a photograph of herself in her seventh year at Hogwarts with her younger sister, who was in her fifth. In the photo both girls were waving to the photographer and looked content, offering thin smiles, which was what passed for happy in Slytherin. It was taken before her parents had informed her that she was to be pledged to Draco Malfoy, her adamant refusal, and the subsequent issues that had arose.

_There were few times when Daphne Greengrass became overtly emotional, and even less when she broke down into tears. It had been years since she had allowed herself to cry. That was not to say that she didn't get emotional, but she had ways of keeping her emotions to herself. Her Head of House sometimes remarked that those who wore their heart on their sleeve were easily manipulated. Thus it was out of the ordinary for the Slytherin student to find herself in an abandoned classroom bawling._

_Daphne was in classroom that hadn't been inhabited for some length of time and was seated on an old teacher's desk that had a thick layer of dust coating its surface. In her hands was a crumpled, tear-stained piece of parchment: a letter from her father that had been officially sealed with the Greengrass family crest imprinted in the wax. It was the third missive she'd received from the family Patriarch over the last few days. Each one had added to her distress until she had reached the breaking point._

_Her father had arranged a marriage between herself and Draco Malfoy. To do this after the information was freely circulating that the scion of the Malfoy family had a major hand in the death of Albus Dumbledore was an open declaration of support for the Dark Lord. Not only that, but Daphne had absolutely no desire to marry the wretched murdering scum. Everything about the arrangement was wrong. She was headstrong, and family or not she wasn't about to be told what to do and that included being forced into situations that were outright despicable. She wasn't purposely being disobedient for the sake of doing so, but she held firm the belief that everyone's life was their own to live. In response to her father's statement Daphne had done the unthinkable for any daughter of a traditional pureblood family._

_She wrote her father back and outright refused._

_The second letter arrived. Her father was displeased with her attitude and had included some harsh threats. Daphne ignored it. The third arrived, and here Daphne found herself reading over the words time and time again willing them to be a mistake, or said in anger. While the tears streamed down her cheeks she balled the parchment and flung it away from her. "Incendio,"_ _she croaked, pointing her wand towards the tainted letter and watched in grim satisfaction as it was consumed hungrily by the conjured flames. It did little to calm herself down._

"_Who's there?" a male voice rang out from the doorway and echoed around the empty classroom._

_Daphne's breath hitched and she felt her heart leap in her chest. She didn't often get surprised, but she had been so focused on her troubles that she hadn't heard the wizard approaching. That didn't stop her wand arm from reflexively sweeping away from the burning parchment towards the intruder. Instead of answering, she fought to compose herself._

"_Lumos," the wizard whispered, and a tip of his wand brightened enough to illuminate his face._

_Harry Potter. The-Boy-Who-Lived. He was the last person Daphne needed to see while she was so vulnerable. Then again, she had to admit to herself that wasn't true. Malfoy or any of his lackeys would have been much worse to run in to._

"_Greengrass?" Harry asked, surprise evident in his voice, after he had swept the tip of his wand in the direction of the professor's desk. "What are you doing in... um, in here?"_

_Daphne knew the pause in Potter's question had been because he had caught sight of her face. She'd been able to stop herself from crying, but there was no masking how distraught she knew she must have looked._

"_Are you okay?" Potter asked, sounding genuinely concerned despite her lack of response. He moved a few paces towards her, but stopped several metres short and scuffed out the burning piece of parchment with the heel of his trainer._

_Daphne let out a sigh and spoke in a defeated tone. "Do you really care, Potter?" She was taken aback, although did not let it show, that he looked almost hurt by her insinuation. He even lowered his eyes like a scolded child._

_Potter scattered the ashes with his foot and looked up to face her. "Of course I do. It isn't like I enjoy seeing people cry, even Slytherins despite the rumours, you know." He furled his brow when Daphne gave him only a snort in reply. "Really, what's your problem, Greengrass? You look like your world has ended."_

"_Because it has!" Daphne retorted, surprising herself with her honesty. She eased off the edge of the desk and took control of the only situation she could at that moment. Looking Potter directly in the eyes, she folded her arms across her chest defiantly. She attempted to even out her tone realizing that her previous reply had sounded frantic. "It isn't any of your business, Potter."_

"_No, but I do know what it feels like to lose loved ones, or be slandered, or feel like your life is not your own," Potter replied flippantly with a small shrug of his shoulders. _

_The comment was obviously said offhandedly, but Daphne had seen enough of Harry Potter to realize he knew exactly how she was feeling right now. Oddly, instead of providing comfort, it bothered her. She was not used to being so vulnerable. She broke eye contact and glanced towards her avenue of escape. "If you say so." She began to walk towards the room's exit._

"_I didn't mean to upset you, Greengrass," Potter replied sounding regretful. He even offered Daphne a sad smile. "Whatever it is maybe I can help-"_

_Potentially honest or not, that comment got under Daphne's skin. She turned her full attention back to the boy and stared him down with and angry expression on her face. "As if, Potter! Like you would bloody well help a Slytherin. Fuck off and stop sticking your head into things that aren't your business!" She knew in her heart that there is no way Potter would truthfully help someone from a family of Dark Lord supporters. Having passionately spoke her mind, Daphne brushed passed him on her way to the exit. She was startled when Potter's hand clutched her upper arm. Not forcefully or violently, but firm enough so that she couldn't easily break his grip. She turned to face him again, indignant. "Let me go," she hissed dangerously._

_Daphne had expected Harry to look angry, but instead he looked hurt more than anything. Regardless, he still refused to release her arm. _

"_I'm serious, you know. Its obvious you don't believe me, but I really can help, whatever it is, I've probably been through it," Potter told her. His green eyes had a pleading look in them. _

_Daphne pulled her arm from his grasp. "Leave me alone, Potter. I don't need your help." _

The door to her room slammed closed and brought Daphne's attention back to the present.

Lucius Malfoy was was standing just inside the doorway, looking more terrified than anyone Daphne had ever seen before. He was out of breath, had a long gash across his forehead, and was clutching his wand as if his life depended on it. Either he hadn't noticed her, or he didn't care to acknowledge her. She hoped it was the former, and that this wasn't some disgusting new roleplay the man had come up with. There were few clients that were worse than Lucius Malfoy.

Without sparing Daphne a glance Malfoy slinked off to the corner of the room like a wounded kneazle, although he kept a watchful eye on the door. "You, _girl_," Malfoy said addressing her for the first time since he'd entered the room without even looking over. It was always _girl_, _wench_ or _whore_. One of the first things Daphne had learned in her new life was that she was not a person, but instead an object for other's enjoyment. A name was unnecessary. "Go fetch Ashworth and have him bring floo powder," Malfoy continued. Both of his hands were shaking.

It was then that the door burst open off of its hinges and before Daphne saw who had destroyed the door the air suddenly shifted. She had never felt anything like it before. The air seemed to get heavier around her and she found it harder to breathe. She felt terrified, yet oddly uplifted by the magic. Somehow, she knew that she wasn't in any danger from whatever was exuding the tremendous force.

Then into the room strode Harry Potter.

Potter was angrier than Daphne had ever seen him before. She could feel the raw ripples of magic pulsating from him. Harry's eyes swept over the room, but stopped abruptly when he spotted Daphne. The anger in his eyes was briefly replaced by confusion, and then finally a familiar look of understanding. "Greengrass..." he muttered.

In the split second when Potter was distracted, Malfoy made his move. A spell erupted from his wand with a flash of light green and streaked across the room.

Potter reacted faster than Daphne would have thought imaginable, and twisted himself out of the spell's way.

Or so Daphne initially thought.

The curse struck Potter in the shoulder rather than the chest, and he was blown backwards several feet where he then lay on the ground convulsing. It looked like he was dying.

Malfoy cautiously inched towards the body, a look of shock on his face. A small smile formed on his lips and he wiped the sweat off his brow with the sleeve of his robe.

The sight of Potter's wand lying on the ground mere inches from his twitching body gave Daphne the first opportunity she had in a while. Just as she was about to make a move for the wand, out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of Malfoy, who had finally noticed her presence. The wizard's wand was trained on her, but his smug look of confidence only served to make the impulse inside of her grow stronger. She returned the smug grin, feeling more alive than she had in some time, and reveled at the look of confusion, and then dawning recognition in Malfoy's eyes when he realized who she was. Seizing control of her life once more, she did the one thing that she thought she would never have to do in order to save her life.

Act like a Gryffindor.

Daphne made her move.


End file.
